


Best Kept Secret

by matchstick_milk



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Crushes, Dancing, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Prom, Secret Crush, Underage Drinking, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 07:56:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11893365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchstick_milk/pseuds/matchstick_milk
Summary: Some things in life are well-kept secrets. One is that Keith Kogane had never fallen so obstinately head-over-heels for someone before.





	Best Kept Secret

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! :D i'd had this idea in my head a while, and i'm not sure how well it will translate, but i hope you all enjoy it!

* * *

Some things in life are well-kept secrets.

One: Pidge once hacked into the school's administrative system, and changed her grade in her Art Class. She's got a mind for science, not an eye for aesthetics, but, as she had said, " _It'd be a crime to screw up my GPA over a couple of crappy charcoal drawings_."

Two: On his first date with Shay, Hunk had thrown up all over the floor of her car. The food they'd gotten hadn't been cooked properly, and the ride back to Altea had been a particularly bumpy one. Shay was extremely understanding. They keep it between the two of them.

Three: Allura and Shiro shared their first kiss together during some silly high school party. The host's family had left them home alone for the weekend. Allura had braces, and they bumped noses the first time he leaned in, wondering what her lips felt like.

Four: As infuriating as Keith Kogane found Lance McClain, he had never fallen so obstinately head-over-heels for someone before.

 

..

"If he says it one more time, I swear...." Keith shakes the sweat from his bangs, letting his weight rest back against the chainlink fence.

"Let him have his fun." The tone Shiro uses digs under Keith's skin--as if he's amused by Keith's irritation--but when Shiro tosses Keith his _patient, beautiful, weaponized_ smile, Keith doesn't have it in him to be mad. "Besides, it's plenty entertaining for the rest of the team."

Keith's frowns, liberally glaring at Lance from his shady hiding place; he's doing that thing he does, leaning his weight into his elbows on the fence, looking too relaxed, too confident, as he talks easily with Nyma, probably repeating the same shit he's been spewing for the past month and a half.

 _I'm gonna be prom king_.

Keith sighs, reaches for his water bottle. "He's distracting everyone else. If he isn't focusing, he's not going to be able to perform at the meet next week."

Shiro's hand rests on top of Keith's bottle before he can bring it to his lips, and-- _there's_ that chastising look. Keith had been waiting for Shiro to slip into Big Brother Mode.

"Keith…." he trails, frowning, before he flicks Keith's forehead and pulls himself off the ground. "Play nice."

Keith wants to be annoyed with Shiro. He really does. But, much like the rest of Altea High, and the state, and the country, and probably the world, Keith doesn't have the heart to feel anything but affection towards his foster brother.

 _Keeping the peace_ , he thinks. _I’d expect nothing less from Altea Track's Captain_.

Still, though....

Keith presses the bottle to his lips as he peers at Lance one more time. The transfer student is stretching against the fence now, chatting idly with Pidge, the team's manager, about times.

When he turns, he spots Keith staring; that lopsided grin of his skirts across his face as he lifts his middle finger. Keith reciprocates.

This much is easy.

..

"Keith, my buddy, _my man_!"

Keith's shoulders tense where he leans over his gym bag. "What is it, Lance?"

Lance falls with a dramatic sigh onto the bench, staring up at the ceiling of the locker room dreamily. Like he does when he's thinking, when he's daydreaming, when he's spinning a hundred fantasies in his head and he's feeling something along the lines of unstoppable.

"Prom's tomorrow," hitched on another sigh.

Keith licks his lips, returns to packing his clothes up. "I'm aware."

"Dude, for real, _how_ are you not more excited about it? I mean--" He shuts Keith's locker, ignoring the indignant scoff the action earns. " _Come on_ . Girls dressed up in cute dresses, loud music, good food, getting all done up in tuxes? _Dancing_ ? Plus, I don't know if you've heard, _but_ \--" and, Keith swears to God, Lance pops the non-existent collar on his track shirt, "-- _you_ are standing in the presence of the future _prom king_."

Keith rolls his eyes, zips his bag and slings it over his shoulder. "Gee. Lucky me."

Lance pouts, stepping enough into Keith’s spance enough for his skin to warm up. He points accusingly, though there’s a self-satisfied smirk behind it. "Pshh, you're just _jealous_ 'cause nobody's asked you to prom."

"Oh, and people have asked _you_?" Keith draws, unable to resist the bait. The corner of Lance's mouth ticks up the slightest, and Keith feels stupid for noticing.

" _Duh_ ," Lance huffs.

"Okay, fine." Keith crosses his arms. "Who're you going with."

"Uh-uh, I'm not _going_ with anyone." The pride in Lance's statement almost makes Keith laugh. "But, I will be going _home_ with someone. I mean, everyone knows the prom _king_ and prom _queen_ get together at the end."

Keith feels a pang of something, and studiously ignores it. " _Everyone_ knows this."

"God, Keith, _yes_ , haven't you ever seen a romantic comedy before?" Lance tosses his head back, annoyed. As he pulls himself up to remove his sweat-rimmed shirt, he points accusingly at Keith. "Make sure you're ready at 8:00, man, I'm serious, we gotta get there _fashionably late_."

Keith turns, makes for the door with a dismissive wave, partially because he's not about to be lectured about preparedness by _Lance_ , and partially because he doesn't want his eyes to linger a little too long on places they don't belong.

"Yeah, fine, 8:00."

..

If there's one thing Altea High knows how to do, it's throw a party.

Of course, it helps that Allura is in charge of the Prom Committee. Her party-planning and organizational skills are legendary, so Prom Night is nothing short of magical.

The gym is barely recognizable, decked out in light blues and pinks and purples--lights, streamers, balloons, and silver confetti, _the works_.

Keith hates the works.

He’d never tell Allura that, never so much as breath anything about dissatisfaction in her direction. She had dates Shiro for nearly a year before he came out and got with his longtime boyfriend, Adam, so she’s practically family, and he has a hard time stomaching the thought of her--and, consequently, to some extent--Shiro being upset with him, so he keeps it to himself.

But, the tinsel glitz and store-bought glamour that mask the monotonous brown of the gymnasium just isn’t for him.

He bares it, though, for as long as he can, relegating himself to a table near the back of the gym. Pidge keeps him company, and she was both stupid and brave enough to sneak in a flask of something that burns the back of Keith’s throat when he swallows it so it isn’t all bad.

As he takes a swig, and pretends to understand anything about Pidge’s scientific rambling, he catches a flash of powder blue and dark skin. Keith wipes his tingling lips on the back of his palm and audibly scoffs.

 

..

Some things in life are not secrets.

Instead they are things made painfully obvious, or things that one figures out, through deduction, or through listening. Attention must be paid.

One: Keith hates the powder blue of Lance’s prom suit. It’s cheesy and old, a hand-me-down from an uncle somewhere up Lance’s family tree. He looks like he’s stepped out of a John Hughes movie, and the worst part is that he doesn’t have an ounce of shame about it.

Two: Lance looks _good_ in the suit. He knows it. Everyone knows it. It hurts to admit how something so stupid could look so good on anyone, but, infuriatingly enough, Lance pulls it off. The white of his dress shirt is crisp, and the blue contrasts against the brown of his skin nicely.

Three: Keith Kogane was head-over-heels for Lance McClain. This not-secret took a little more attention, a little more studying. One could mistake the red in Keith’s cheeks as frustration; one could think the biting remarks Keith threw at Lance were signs of annoyance. But if one looked carefully enough, they would see the lingering looks, the anxiety around physical contact, the flush on Keith’s neck, and know it for it what is was: a crush.

Four: Pidge is a scientist, first, foremost, and forever. Looking carefully was in the job description.

 

..

“You’ve been glaring extra hard at Lance tonight,” Pidge muses, taking the flask under the table from Keith. She peers around before taking a sip, avoiding the watchful eyes of any chaperone.

“He dances like an idiot.” Keith’s response is easy. Teasing Lance is easy.

“Right, but….” And she broaches the subject without much elegance, because elegance has never been her forte, and she has never been known for speaking with tact. “It wouldn’t have _anything_ to do with _who_ , right?”

Keith watches Lance. Watches him move, jump with too much pep to the beat of some electronic song; watches his hand linger on the hip of a girl whose name Keith just can’t remember.

He hates that he’s this way. And, for a moment, he hates that Pidge is the way she is. It’s always made him feel so transparent.

“No,” he sighs, a terrible lie, as he takes the flask back. He can’t help the flare of jealousy in his chest as he glances sideways and sees Lance whispering in the girl’s ear.

 _I’m gonna be prom king_.

The girl giggles.

Keith’s aware that he’s being painfully obvious, so he takes a long sip. Pidge sighs next to him, and loosens the tie on her suit, a brilliant green.

“Keith,” and her voice is just shy of a tired lecture. “Just… go dance with him. It’s Lance.”

“Yeah. Exactly.” Keith stares at a piece of lint on the white table cloth. “He’ll probably make fun of me or something.”

“Or, he’ll dance with you and you guys will have a wonderful time and ride off into the sunset together.”

“Yeah, maybe,” and Keith cuts the conversation off there when he spots Hunk and Shay making their way over from the dance floor--hand-in-hand, of course. They look properly disheveled after dancing, both with flushed smiles. They can hardly keep their eyes off of eachother. It makes Keith smile, if only a little. He’s happy for them.

“Hunk, _please_ tell Keith he should man up and go ask Lance to dance with him.”

The smile is wiped clean off his face, replaced with a scowl and a mortified blush. “P--! Pidge! What the hell?!”

“What? Oh, like he doesn’t already know?” Pidge defends, crossing her arms firmly over her chest.

“What?” Hunk asks, holding Shay’s hand on top of the table. “That Keith’s got a big, soul-eating crush on Lance? Oh, I, uh, didn’t think it was a secret.”

“Neither did I,” Shay hums, her eyes swimming with an apology.

Keith angles his horror at Hunk. “You told Shay?”

“What, she’s my girlfriend? And, like I said, I didn’t think it was a secret!”

“Why would something like that _not_ be a secret?”

Hunk at least has the decency to look sorry when he shrugs, so Keith can’t really be too mad at him. He sags back in his seat and watches the tails of balloons overhead dance overhead.

“Keith?” Shay’s voice is tentative, and though Keith doesn’t turn to look at her, he makes a sound to show that he’s listening. She continues. “If I have anything to offer, it is that you should seize the opportunity. Who knows how long it will be there for you to take.”

This time, Keith looks at her. Pidge passes him the flask, a sign of encouragement. With a sigh, he takes a sip and stands, ignoring the warmth creeping up under his collar when he garners the applause of his friends.

“One song. One dance. That’s it,” he reasons, mostly with himself.

Hunk flashes a thumbs up. “Absolutely.”

Shaking the tension from his shoulders, Keith smiles, small and thankful at Shay. “You look really pretty tonight, Shay.”

She beams back up at him. “Thank you, Keith.”

 

..

Keith has the absolute worst luck in the universe.

He’s two steps from the edge of the dance floor when the DJ bumps the music down a notch and calls into the microphone, “Aaaaaalright, ladies and gents, it’s that time of night, yes, the time everyone has been waiting for. Time to crown your prom king and queen!”

There’s a surge of applause, people cheering as their legs still underneath them, the whole gym buzzing with excitement and tension.

Keith hovers awkwardly. He can feel the space between him and the crowd, can feel his friends’ eyes on his back, waiting for a success story that will never play out.

Because Keith’s watching, watching Lance, from too far away, like always, snake his arm around the waist of a pretty girl and whisper something sweet in her ear.

 _I’m gonna be prom king_.

 

..

Keith is a lot of things.

He’s impulsive and reckless. He’s gotten himself into too much trouble, nearly kicked out of school, for making thoughtless decisions. He’s temperamental and hot-headed. He doesn’t ever know when to quit. He has a habit of pushing himself too hard. He’s no good at studying, but naturally good at the the things he sets his mind to. He’s a fan of knives, and hippos, and fast food.

He’s guarded. He doesn’t let many people in, let them see the vulnerability.

He’s hard, but that’s only a piece of him. He’s a teenage boy, freshly eighteen, with a long history of rejection. Rejection from peers, from adults, from family.

Keith is a lot of things.

But he won’t let himself add “idiot” to the list.

 

..

Keith has good friends. When they see him caught in the no-man’s land between the tables and the dance floor, they join him, filling the gaps. Hunk claps a hand on his shoulder as they watch a faculty member fiddle with an envelope.

Keith peers at Shay, schooling his lips into a bittersweet smile. “Guess the opportunity passed, huh?”

She looks sorry for him; it’s not a look Keith likes to have directed his way. Her voice is hushed. “If it is meant, the opportunity will keep presenting itself endlessly.”

“We will now announce the winners of Prom King and Queen.”

Their attention is undivided, almost unanimously.

Keith’s eyes are elsewhere; Lance is looking forward, eyes sparkling, glued to the stage, so for now, looking at him is safe. He looks handsome, he looks like he’s glowing under the soft champagne and strawberry-colored lights.

“Please give a round of applause to… Allura, your prom queen!” Everyone cheers; no one is even remotely surprised. An athlete, a member of student government, best-dressed, and an all-around phenomenal friend and student, it would have been shocking if anyone _but_ Allura had won.

She takes the stage with effortless grace, dripping with soft purple silk as she bends her head to accept her crown.

“And, please join me in welcoming your prom king….

Lotor!”

The applause is nothing to sneeze at. Lotor is, after all, somewhat of a super star when it comes to athletics, as well as a prized member of the debate team. Allura doesn’t look particularly thrilled to have to share a dance with him, but, all-in-all, no one is surprised.

Lance, however, looks devastated. Before the crown can even be placed on Lotor’s head, he’s moving, sliding between anything that lies between him and the door.

Keith had watched his smile crumble away into nothing. Just… absolutely nothing.

He opens his mouth, but the words don’t come out.

“Lance! Lance, wait!” Hunk calls, ever the diligent friend, but the would-be prom king ignores them all, and disappears without much resistance.

“Keith.” Pidge stares up at him, over the rim of her glasses, expectantly. _Go get him_.

This time there’s no hesitation.

 

..

“I don’t wanna talk about it Hunk--! Oh….”

Lance looks sheepishly over his shoulder, which only curl higher as he falls to sit on the edge of the curb just outside the parking lot.

Every fiber of Keith’s being is telling him to run, but he steels himself, shuffling closer until he’s standing at the edge of the sidewalk.

“You’re really gonna make me sit in the dirt in this suit?” Keith sighs.

Lance’s answer is a sniffle and a dramatic pout.

Keith sits, wrinkling his nose at the dirt already collecting on his (Shiro’s old) black suit.

“I don’t know what happened back there. I was so sure I was gonna win….”

Keith grapples with what to say before settling on, “It’s only prom, Lance. It’s not the end of the world, it’s just… a dumb popularity contest.”

Lance shuts his eyes, like the truth hurts. “That’s just….” He rubs his face before glancing at his friend, his smile sad. “It’s just not… how all this was supposed to go.”

Keith raises an eyebrow. “How _was_ all this supposed to go?”

With a groan, Lance lets his legs sprawl out before him, the heels of his shoes grinding over bits of gravel. “God, Keith, I don’t know, you know, I was supposed to… I was supposed to dress up nice and have a good time and get the girl and….” He trails off, as if realizing something. “It’s just… it’s stupid, nevermind.”

And, now Keith is definitely interested. He tilts his head, eyes widening slightly with his curiosity. “No, it isn’t.”

Lance sizes Keith up, lips pressed into a thin line as he hesitates, and, for the first time, it occurs to Keith that maybe Lance has his own walls; one he’s considering letting down for Keith. The thought is both an honor and a petrifying responsibility.

“I was just supposed to… I don’t know, feel like people really liked me, you know?” Lance looks away quickly, his face coloring a deep red, even in the dark. “But….” He scratches his neck. “I guess that didn’t happen. And nothing’s changed.”

Keith frowns, resisting the urge to smack him. “That is stupid.”

 _Yikes. Not the best way to phrase it_.

Lance frowns. “Look, I know, okay? You don’t have to rub it in--!”

“No, I mean--ugh-- _everyone_ likes you, Lance. And you’re stupid to not know that.”

Their eyes meet; Lance searching for a sign Keith is lying, Keith daring Lance to tell him he’s wrong.

“A lot of people don’t like me.”

“Name one.”

Lance crosses his arms smugly. “Rolo.”

“He likes you. He’s tried drunkenly asking all of us for your number on multiple occasions.”

The smugness evaporates. “Okay, well….” His voice grows softer, as if he’s weighing something serious. “You don’t like me.”

Keith doesn’t answer. Not because he doesn’t want to, but rather, because his brain nearly short circuits at the notion.

“I….” Keith shakes the shock from his head, voice louder than he intends. “ _Why_ would you think that?”

“Well you’re yelling at me for starters--” Lance mumbles.

“ _Yeah_ , because you think I _hate_ you!” Keith growls, frustrated by the whole situation-- _beyond_ frustrated. Keith was ready to tell Lance he wasn’t _really_ stupid, but now he’s reconsidering. “Why would I come out here after you if I _hated_ you?”

“To make fun of me.”

And Keith’s really on a roll now, because he can’t stop himself soon enough; “I don’t hate you, Lance, especially not when--” and he skids to a stop, but it’s too late, he’s thrown himself into the deep end, because Lance is raising an eyebrow and looking at him confused, teetering on the edge of a fight, and, oh god, he wants to crawl into his bedroom and never come back out.

“Especially not when you… what, Keith?”

“When….”

And, this is what Shay was talking about, wasn’t it? The opportunity, presenting itself, over and over, until Keith got it right.

He takes a deep breath and clutches the edge of the curb, the rock rough against his fingertips.

“When I like you, okay? God, it’s so stupid....”

There’ a pregnant moment, one that’s all silence save for the distant inside sounds of music. Keith can hear his own breathing in his ears, right next to his heartbeat, before finally, _finally_ , Lance speaks.

“I know you like me, Keith. I never really thought you hated me, we’ve always been buddies so--”

“No. Not….” and Keith can’t help but sigh as he finally looks up at Lance, meets his eyes in the dim glow of the parking lot. His voice wavers nervously. “Not like that.”

Lance’s eyes blow wide as the words process, and Keith feels the heat in his cheeks grow stronger. Because he’s embarrassed and wearing his heart on his sleeve for the first time in a long time; because Lance looks beautiful like that, caught by surprise, flushed with a hundred thoughts, dressed up nice but sloppy from dancing, soft and earnest and all the things he pretends not to be.

“O-oh.”

“Yeah….” Keith is seconds from an apology, so he sighs out a quiet, “Please say something,” when Lance continues to stare.

“S-sorry, sorry, I just….” He shakes his head, his hands, before his lips curl into a grin. “I’m just….” and he shakes his head again, but this time he’s smiling, really _smiling_ at Keith, and its hurts to be the object of that tenderness, in the best way possible.

Keith turns his head away, red in the face with a quiver in his stomach at the thought that races through his mind: _I want to kiss him_.

Lance chuckles. “Aw, come on. Don’t tell me the _cool_ , _calm_ , and _collected, ultra-mysterious_ Keith Kogane is bashful, too.”

Keith glares up at him for only a moment, before Lance is exploding into laughter.

“You are! You totally are!”

Keith leans away from Lance’s shouting. “Forget I said anything….”

“No! No, no, no, no, no, no, I’m sorry, that was just… just, god, Keith that was kind of cute.”

Keith rolls his eyes, shoving Lance’s shoulder without much force or intent. They sit like that, side-by-side, close enough for their thighs to brush, in a comfortable silence. Keith likes this, thinks he could get used to it. Lance hasn’t said he likes Keith, that his feelings are anything like mutual, but he hasn’t done anything to get away. Keith knows what he wants, but being friends with Lance sounds fine, too. He just doesn’t want to lose him, and--

“Can I… can I try something?”

Keith peers over at Lance, who flounders for a moment.

“I mean something, like… not weird. Or, at least, I hope it’s not weird--it might be a little weird, but--”

“Get to the point, Lance.”

“Rude.” Lance pouts a moment before he timidly asks, “Can I… uh, could I kiss you?”

Okay, forget being friends. Keith just felt his stomach drop into his ass at the thought, and his heart’s beating so fast it could constitute a serious cardiac issue, but he nods, slowly and disjointedly.

Lance breathes, “Okay,” before angling himself closer, his smile shaky and timid, like his breathing.

When he places his fingers on Keith’s jaw, he holds his breath, they both do. Keith stares up at Lance through his lashes, and Lance speaks quietly, under his breath in a language Keith can’t understand, before their lips are parting and slotting together slowly, oh so slowly, like this moment is too fragile for either of them to handle.

They break away after a hair’s breadth of a moment, Keith exhaling shaky over Lance’s lips and meeting Lance’s eyes in a half-lidded glance that makes heat drip warmer into his butterfly-infested stomach.

“Can I….” _do it again_?

Keith nods, not trusting himself with words, and they’re kissing again, this time needier by a fraction. Their lips move slowly, languidly, treading undocumented waters.

Keith’s looking for a place to put his hand that _isn’t_ the rough sidewalk, because quite honestly, it’s starting to hurt, but he’s distracted by the kiss, so when his palm lands a little too high on Lance’s thigh, it garners a soft, unexpected keen from the taller boy.

Keith reminds himself to pray to some deity, any deity, for the noise, and the look on Lance’s face when he pulls back from the kiss.

“Sorry,” Keith huffs, retracting his hand, quick as lightning, sorry, but also not really.

“It’s okay, it’s….” and Lance huffs out an airy laugh, running a hand through his hair like he can’t believe what they’ve just done. “It was nice?”

“...Yeah?”

Lance nods. He always looks good, but earnest shyness and a little bit of desire look amazing on him. “You should do it again sometime.”

Keith smiles at how cheesy a line it is. “I’m not busy tonight.”

Lance scoffs. “Oh, no?”

“Nah. I’ve got this prom, but… I could blow it off.”

Lance rolls his eyes and hoists himself up, dusting his legs and backside off. “Okay, hotshot, if you’re _too cool_ for the prom, where would you rather spend a Friday night?”

Keith follows him up, reaching over to adjust Lance’s collar for him. “I know a place by the beach. Patrol never comes by, so….”

“Well what’re you waiting for?” Lance asks. “Get me out of here. Some jerk just won prom king.”

 

..

Some things in life are best-kept secrets.

One: Keith Kogane has liked Lance McClain for a year now, maybe for even longer. He hesitates to call it love, because he’s never been in love before, and the prospect is terrifying. He’s more of a _doer_ than a _thinker_ , but with Lance, he wants to go slow. He _needs_ to go slow.

Two: Lance McClain has had a crush on Keith Kogane since two weeks after he had transferred to Altea High. He just never thought Keith had noticed him, and, if he had, would give him the time of day.

Three: The southernmost tip of Balmera Beach is rockier than other stretches of sand, so it’s rarely patrolled by dune buggies. Their city is a sleepy one, and it’s chilly for a night so deep into springtime, so they park Keith’s car behind a cluster of boulders near the edge of the water without much trouble. It’s one of Keith’s favorite spots; he’s kept it to himself for as long as he can remember, even from Shiro. Bringing Lance there feels like letting a wall down, like showing him a piece of himself.

Lance insists on sharing a dance of their own, but when he steps outside, the ocean wind whips his tie into his face and his jacket gets twisted—it had Keith choking on laughter.

Four: Keith’s neck is a particularly weak point on his body. He didn’t know it, nor did anyone else, and, after Lance biting into it garners a horribly mortifying noise, Keith makes Lance swear that is remains a secret. Lance agrees, under the condition that he’s allowed to do it again.


End file.
